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ceramic d.m. final judgement posted
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<blockquote data-quote="Milo Bloom" data-source="post: 558791" data-attributes="member: 9400"><p><strong>The Gift</strong></p><p></p><p>Eirvar watched as the dust storm that had been blowing across the plain started to settle. He could make out some of the buildings closer to his viewpoint from the hilltop.</p><p>He looked out from his parent’s tent to the small camp of loyal Orlanthi. Like all his people, Eirvar’s village worshiped the storm god Orlanth, chieftain of the Pentian gods. Orlanth was also called the Lightbringer, as it was he who led the quest to bring back the sun god, Yelm, from the clutches of the underworld.</p><p></p><p> The camp’s leaders had warned everyone to stay inside their tents during the dust storm. But he had hoped to catch sight of the spirit Gagarath, the wild wind that Orlanth had unleashed upon those who sought to betray him to the conquering lunar army.</p><p></p><p> The village council had openly welcomed the lunar army into the village, after many of the village’s warriors had perished trying to oppose them. This angered their god and he brought down his wrath upon the area.</p><p></p><p> “Come away from the flap Eirvar, there is no sense in watching. Just pray the lunar garrison are too busy aiding their priest in driving off the wild hunter to notice our flight.”</p><p></p><p> He looked back into the tent and he could see his mothers watering eyes in the dim light of the cooking fire.</p><p></p><p> “Where are we going mother?”</p><p></p><p> “We head to Pavis. We have kin there we can rely on for aid and it is still a free city.”</p><p></p><p> His grandfather looked up from his writing. “Do not worry Voria, the clan history will remember Banatos as a hero and Roha as a traitor.”</p><p></p><p> His mother looked out the flap and to the few tents, pitched on the top of Giant’s Rest Hill. “That is not my worry, so few of us have fled the occupation. What will become of our people?”</p><p></p><p> His grandfather, spit upon the ground. “Curse the lunars and curse their thrice damned Red Goddess.”</p><p></p><p><hr></p><p></p><p> The journey to Pavis was long and many of the refugees from the village left the group to stay with relatives in other villages. Along the way to their destination they had met up with other Orlanthi who were fleeing their homes as well. All across the northern reaches of Pent, cities were falling to the conquering might of the Lunar army.</p><p></p><p> Eirvar spent most of his waking hours talking to warriors from various villages and learning their art. A few of the villages had managed to bring some of their siege equipment with them. During one of his training sessions Halur, a warrior from a village that tried to completely resist the invaders, demonstrated the proper loading and firing techniques of a catapult.</p><p></p><p> The end of the journey, Pavis itself was something beyond Eirvar’s imagination. Built by giants for Pavis himself, it was an impossibly large city. The current city was built upon the ruins of the original city. The sight of it gave the band weary Orlanthi refugees some small glimmer of hope.</p><p></p><p> The soldiers at the gate looked warily at the influx of people that were pouring into their city. It was obvious from their glares that they did not appreciate the tired and hungry people entering their city.</p><p></p><p><hr></p><p></p><p> Eirvar watched as the cities delegation to the lunar army returned from their meeting. He knew surrender was the only option left to the city, but it still did not remove the taste of bile from his mouth.</p><p></p><p> Rumor had been circulating around the city of late that the lunar priests were preparing to unleash the Crimson Bat upon Pavis. Few sane men wanted to face the creature. The Chaos Bat was said to be large enough that you could fit the city of Pavis on it’s back.</p><p></p><p> Fighting the army with such a demonic force on its side would have insured the destruction of the entire population. Eirvar recalled Halur’s tale of the bat’s destruction of his village. People by the scores were fed to appease the creature’s appetite.</p><p></p><p> Surrender or complete destruction had been the only option left open to Pavis. None of the warriors on the walls were happy with giving over the city without a fight. The city council cautioned many of the more vocal Orlanthi to flee the city to the free lands in Dragon Pass. </p><p></p><p> Eirvar had already decided he would stay in the city and try to help those who would suffer under the policies set by the occupying lunar forces. Perhaps in time those who fled the city would return with an army. </p><p></p><p><hr></p><p></p><p> As Yelm readied his descent into the underworld, the streets of Pavis were at their busiest. Eirvar, warrior-thane of humakt, stalked his way through the section of the city known as the Old Towne. It took little effort to ignore the calls of the shopkeepers and beggars he passed. He had always hated this part of town and often wondered why Altonar insisted on building his temple to Lhankor Mhy here. But then the minds of Lhankor Mhy priests, the grey sages, were always more focused on their books and not on concerns such as appearances and safety. He wished that his own leaders were not so open to the teachings of the lunar’s Red Goddess.</p><p></p><p> His trek to the destination passed with little incident and he entered the library that was the temple of the lord of knowledge. He noted several sages were gathered around a rather large skeletal bat they had laid on a black cloth. One of the initiates, a youth of about sixteen who had yet to grow his own beard, approached as he entered. </p><p></p><p> “Greetings sword brother, what may the sages of Lhankor Mhy do for you?”</p><p></p><p> “I seek the sage Ilstan, he who is renowned throughout the city for his knowledge of all things relating to the God War and the Great Darkness that followed Yelm’s death.”</p><p></p><p> He entered the stairwell indicated by the initiate and began to descend into the darkness. Calling upon the power of Orlanth’s lightbringer aspect, he triggered the lanterns that lined the staircase. Even if Orlanth’s brother had severed his ties with his divine family, Eirvar was still an Orlanthi at heart.</p><p></p><p> He stopped momentarily at the hallway to get his bearings and headed down one of the hallways. Watching the numbers on the various labs, he stopped at the one numbered one hundred and fifty seven.</p><p></p><p> With some care he knocked on the wooden door.</p><p></p><p> “I’m in the middle of a very important research, I do not wish to be disturbed.”</p><p></p><p> “It’s Eirvar, sword of Humakt.”</p><p></p><p> The wooded food door open and an elderly man peered out suspiciously at Eirvar.</p><p></p><p> “So it is, so it is. Do come in lad, the hour is still early and there is much to talk about.”</p><p></p><p><hr></p><p></p><p> The two men spent the evening talking of times of old and the people they had known. During the evenings meal his great uncle stole several glances at a wooden box sitting on his workbench. As the late hours of the night became spent Eirvar stood as if to signal his eminent departure. </p><p></p><p> “I must head back to the temple shortly. There is much work to be done in preparation for the Emperor’s surveyor Jarx’s arrival. He is a noble man and has many enemies among the various lunar houses.”</p><p></p><p> His uncle looked once more at the box on the table and reached over to pick it up. Cradling the box in his arms he looked at his nephew and gave a faint smile.</p><p></p><p> “I know of Jarx, he is a good man and a learned one as well. His death would sadden many among my order.”</p><p></p><p> “Fear not then Uncle, the lunar governor has appointed me responsible for his safety as long as he is in our city.”</p><p></p><p> His uncle opened the box so that Eirvar could see what lay within. He had never seen a morning star of more exquisite craftsmanship.</p><p></p><p> “What?” he had never known his uncle to be a man of arms. He floundered for the meaning of his uncle’s possession of the weapon.</p><p></p><p> “It is Wonulan’s Morning Star, forged by the dwarves from true iron and contains a piece of the Block of Law in it’s handle. It is a gift that I now entrust to you.”</p><p></p><p> Eirvar’s reached tentively for the weapon his uncle lay before him. Wonulan, Pavis’s steward who, with this morning star, defeated a score or more of the foul chaos beasts known as broo. A man who wielded this weapon could easily sway the hearts of the loyal citizens of Pavis.</p><p></p><p> “I can not carry this Uncle. Humakt’s forbidding of blunt weapons aside, the lunar army would seize it from me in an instant.”</p><p></p><p> “I am aware of this, this is not a gift that I give to you, nephew. Instead it is a gift I ask you to bear to another. There is a man, Arakat, who even now tries to gather together an army to march upon Pavis. Bring him the morning star and offer it to him as a sign that even now within Pavis’s walls there are those yearning to throw of the Lunar government from our lands.”</p><p></p><p> A slow smile spread across Eirvar’s face as he understood what this would mean for Pavis as well as all the Pentian lands currently under lunar occupation. It only pained him that his grandfather could not have survived to see the day their people would again be free.</p><p></p><p> “When do you wish for me to leave to meet this Arakat?”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Milo Bloom, post: 558791, member: 9400"] [b]The Gift[/b] Eirvar watched as the dust storm that had been blowing across the plain started to settle. He could make out some of the buildings closer to his viewpoint from the hilltop. He looked out from his parent’s tent to the small camp of loyal Orlanthi. Like all his people, Eirvar’s village worshiped the storm god Orlanth, chieftain of the Pentian gods. Orlanth was also called the Lightbringer, as it was he who led the quest to bring back the sun god, Yelm, from the clutches of the underworld. The camp’s leaders had warned everyone to stay inside their tents during the dust storm. But he had hoped to catch sight of the spirit Gagarath, the wild wind that Orlanth had unleashed upon those who sought to betray him to the conquering lunar army. The village council had openly welcomed the lunar army into the village, after many of the village’s warriors had perished trying to oppose them. This angered their god and he brought down his wrath upon the area. “Come away from the flap Eirvar, there is no sense in watching. Just pray the lunar garrison are too busy aiding their priest in driving off the wild hunter to notice our flight.” He looked back into the tent and he could see his mothers watering eyes in the dim light of the cooking fire. “Where are we going mother?” “We head to Pavis. We have kin there we can rely on for aid and it is still a free city.” His grandfather looked up from his writing. “Do not worry Voria, the clan history will remember Banatos as a hero and Roha as a traitor.” His mother looked out the flap and to the few tents, pitched on the top of Giant’s Rest Hill. “That is not my worry, so few of us have fled the occupation. What will become of our people?” His grandfather, spit upon the ground. “Curse the lunars and curse their thrice damned Red Goddess.” <hr> The journey to Pavis was long and many of the refugees from the village left the group to stay with relatives in other villages. Along the way to their destination they had met up with other Orlanthi who were fleeing their homes as well. All across the northern reaches of Pent, cities were falling to the conquering might of the Lunar army. Eirvar spent most of his waking hours talking to warriors from various villages and learning their art. A few of the villages had managed to bring some of their siege equipment with them. During one of his training sessions Halur, a warrior from a village that tried to completely resist the invaders, demonstrated the proper loading and firing techniques of a catapult. The end of the journey, Pavis itself was something beyond Eirvar’s imagination. Built by giants for Pavis himself, it was an impossibly large city. The current city was built upon the ruins of the original city. The sight of it gave the band weary Orlanthi refugees some small glimmer of hope. The soldiers at the gate looked warily at the influx of people that were pouring into their city. It was obvious from their glares that they did not appreciate the tired and hungry people entering their city. <hr> Eirvar watched as the cities delegation to the lunar army returned from their meeting. He knew surrender was the only option left to the city, but it still did not remove the taste of bile from his mouth. Rumor had been circulating around the city of late that the lunar priests were preparing to unleash the Crimson Bat upon Pavis. Few sane men wanted to face the creature. The Chaos Bat was said to be large enough that you could fit the city of Pavis on it’s back. Fighting the army with such a demonic force on its side would have insured the destruction of the entire population. Eirvar recalled Halur’s tale of the bat’s destruction of his village. People by the scores were fed to appease the creature’s appetite. Surrender or complete destruction had been the only option left open to Pavis. None of the warriors on the walls were happy with giving over the city without a fight. The city council cautioned many of the more vocal Orlanthi to flee the city to the free lands in Dragon Pass. Eirvar had already decided he would stay in the city and try to help those who would suffer under the policies set by the occupying lunar forces. Perhaps in time those who fled the city would return with an army. <hr> As Yelm readied his descent into the underworld, the streets of Pavis were at their busiest. Eirvar, warrior-thane of humakt, stalked his way through the section of the city known as the Old Towne. It took little effort to ignore the calls of the shopkeepers and beggars he passed. He had always hated this part of town and often wondered why Altonar insisted on building his temple to Lhankor Mhy here. But then the minds of Lhankor Mhy priests, the grey sages, were always more focused on their books and not on concerns such as appearances and safety. He wished that his own leaders were not so open to the teachings of the lunar’s Red Goddess. His trek to the destination passed with little incident and he entered the library that was the temple of the lord of knowledge. He noted several sages were gathered around a rather large skeletal bat they had laid on a black cloth. One of the initiates, a youth of about sixteen who had yet to grow his own beard, approached as he entered. “Greetings sword brother, what may the sages of Lhankor Mhy do for you?” “I seek the sage Ilstan, he who is renowned throughout the city for his knowledge of all things relating to the God War and the Great Darkness that followed Yelm’s death.” He entered the stairwell indicated by the initiate and began to descend into the darkness. Calling upon the power of Orlanth’s lightbringer aspect, he triggered the lanterns that lined the staircase. Even if Orlanth’s brother had severed his ties with his divine family, Eirvar was still an Orlanthi at heart. He stopped momentarily at the hallway to get his bearings and headed down one of the hallways. Watching the numbers on the various labs, he stopped at the one numbered one hundred and fifty seven. With some care he knocked on the wooden door. “I’m in the middle of a very important research, I do not wish to be disturbed.” “It’s Eirvar, sword of Humakt.” The wooded food door open and an elderly man peered out suspiciously at Eirvar. “So it is, so it is. Do come in lad, the hour is still early and there is much to talk about.” <hr> The two men spent the evening talking of times of old and the people they had known. During the evenings meal his great uncle stole several glances at a wooden box sitting on his workbench. As the late hours of the night became spent Eirvar stood as if to signal his eminent departure. “I must head back to the temple shortly. There is much work to be done in preparation for the Emperor’s surveyor Jarx’s arrival. He is a noble man and has many enemies among the various lunar houses.” His uncle looked once more at the box on the table and reached over to pick it up. Cradling the box in his arms he looked at his nephew and gave a faint smile. “I know of Jarx, he is a good man and a learned one as well. His death would sadden many among my order.” “Fear not then Uncle, the lunar governor has appointed me responsible for his safety as long as he is in our city.” His uncle opened the box so that Eirvar could see what lay within. He had never seen a morning star of more exquisite craftsmanship. “What?” he had never known his uncle to be a man of arms. He floundered for the meaning of his uncle’s possession of the weapon. “It is Wonulan’s Morning Star, forged by the dwarves from true iron and contains a piece of the Block of Law in it’s handle. It is a gift that I now entrust to you.” Eirvar’s reached tentively for the weapon his uncle lay before him. Wonulan, Pavis’s steward who, with this morning star, defeated a score or more of the foul chaos beasts known as broo. A man who wielded this weapon could easily sway the hearts of the loyal citizens of Pavis. “I can not carry this Uncle. Humakt’s forbidding of blunt weapons aside, the lunar army would seize it from me in an instant.” “I am aware of this, this is not a gift that I give to you, nephew. Instead it is a gift I ask you to bear to another. There is a man, Arakat, who even now tries to gather together an army to march upon Pavis. Bring him the morning star and offer it to him as a sign that even now within Pavis’s walls there are those yearning to throw of the Lunar government from our lands.” A slow smile spread across Eirvar’s face as he understood what this would mean for Pavis as well as all the Pentian lands currently under lunar occupation. It only pained him that his grandfather could not have survived to see the day their people would again be free. “When do you wish for me to leave to meet this Arakat?” [/QUOTE]
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